When it rains, it'll fucking pour
by zerogay
Summary: Man is the only one to whom the torture and death of his fellow creatures is amusing in itself.


— ;  
Rick feels as if he's hardly breathing anymore and it's safe to say that he's reached such an immensely low point that he doesn't even want to. Physically at a loss of breath and definitely pulling through with a much similar mindset to match.

His world had shifted in more ways than one ever since Negan had so incontrovertibly hand-picked him out of the group and taken him in somewhat as his own- even though, being _taken in_ was far too nice of a way to put it. The situation, without having beat around the brutal senselessness of it was most certainly the farthest thing from being catalogued as 'nice' for Rick's experience.  
Rick may've not had it off as bad as Negan had made everyone in the group think he was potentially going to (to be fair, he totally thought he would've met his fate with Lucille by now), but the reality wasn't too far off the contrary. The unsettling familiarities of black leather, gleaming teeth and the raucous aroma of blood and sweat, _that_ was his world now and had been ever since the night of the line-up. Nothing else to it.  
He didn't have any purpose anymore opposed to the kind of entitlement he felt back at Alexandria with the group. It wasn't like he was protecting anybody anymore, no, he was just here to serve now. To serve _Negan._

He'd grown to be greatly familiar with the larger man's ways so, nothing is really a surprise to him anymore and gradually, he learns to take what he's given better. Or, just better to Negan's standards. He has learned that the less he complains and the more he complies, the sooner whatever he's being dictated into doing is over with. He can't say that he enjoys knowing that this is his dark reality now but it's also notable that the man has definitely caught himself slipping a few times here or there.  
Slipping in the sense that he'll find himself sometimes leaning into Negan's touch a little more drastically than others or times where he can't help but to take notice of the fact that he's actually willingly begging to receive something more from his dictator without having to be told to do so.

To be completely honest, Rick is disgusted with himself when he does this. There were only ever a few previous points in the man's life where he could actually say something like that about himself and mean it but this surpassed all of that, no second guesses about it.  
He was disgusted knowing that he not only had let himself grow accustomed to becoming some other man's fucktoy but beginning to realize a sense of _enjoyment_ from the kind of torment he received. Maybe it was just him overthinking his body's unfortunate way of trying to adjust to the torture but it hurt knowing that he had began to deem himself as unworthy to this sick, sadistic excuse of a man. The same one who had so remorseless scotched, literally beat to death two of the people he had grown to so deeply love and try to protect at all costs, two of his _family_ members. He had let them die by the hands of this man and because of that, he knew he would always feel like he failed outstandingly. It wasn't as if he had a choice but to take what Negan gave him. The enjoyment that seemed to grow with the coercion, however, was a choice, and he had fucked himself over big time by making the wrong one.

His first exchange with Negan in the RV wasn't necessarily as enjoyable as the constraint he would deal with now, rather only feeling humiliated the entire time but it did play a major role in pushing him to want this.  
Swearing all of his hair had been yanked out from serving as support for Negan to drag him across the gravel and to be thrown against the wall, Rick couldn't decipher the difference between his own tears and his own sweat that had gathered and beaded up on his cheeks. He feared that once that door was slammed, Lucille would be put to work again and his innards would eventually join Glenn and Abraham's on the bat– but thankfully, that wasn't the case. For now, at least.  
He only sufficed a few blows and kicks to his ribs before he was being hustled up by his wet curls again, this time being shoved against the counter on the other end of the camper. If the hits to his sides on the floor hadn't done anything, the sharp maul from the edge of the granite definitely made up for the lack of severe damage. And as much as he wanted to cry out at the pain, he was conflicted with not wanting to show any further weakness towards Negan and sincerely not believing he had enough hydration and energy left in his body to even think about doing so.

Rick only drew in heavy breaths, propping himself up with hands gripped to the counter. It was almost as if he had done the work for Negan because with intentions to have him turned backside forward anyways, Negan took control again, using a gloved hand to shove Rick's upper body back down, causing him to be forcefully bent over the piece of furniture.  
The younger man was in such a daze, he could hardly keep track of how fast this whole thing was progressing, let alone what Negan was even intending on doing with him and it seemed like listening to the man huff and chuck out words was only heightening that sense of confusion. Strangeness.

"Coming on a little strong for your taste, ain't I?" Negan uttered and despite little consciousness left in him, Rick could just _hear_ the damn smirk in his sonorous voice. He laughed and shook his head at his own words before Rick could feel him hooking his index finger around one of his belt loops and tugging his jeans down just below his knees. The mannerism wasn't as rough as the previous drives had been but it was clear he wasn't taking much caution in his actions right now, either. "I admit, I don't usually do this but you getting all worked up out there.. crying like a bitch, and what not. It's really got me goin'." He said. "I got a thing for weakness, y'know it? Breaking tough guys like you down, that's what I like to see."

Rick only whimpered, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from gasping at the rush of cold air coming into direct contact with his now uncovered legs. The feeling of complete discomfort only increased when Negan hooked the same finger to the waistband of Rick's boxers, yanking those down in a similar fashion.  
He could plainly see the way Rick had began to quickly shake his head at the notion, opening his mouth to plead for forgiveness but Negan wasn't going to give him any more room for that. His men were killed and this was the time for Rick to pay up; fair and done.

"Now Rick, don't act like this is the worst thing I could do to ya'." He proclaimed, patting Rick's right thigh a few times to cut him off. Only hard enough to where his handprint was briefly imprinted. "You saw what damage Lucille can do, didn't ya'? I mean, if you'd rather have a few swings to the head like your friends out there took, be my guest, 'cause I'm sure she's still workin' up an appetite." He informed him.  
Rick's breath grew shaky and Negan only carried on.

"Or, if you think your sweet cyclops boy out there could do a better job of takin' me, I can pull him in here and make a mess of his little ass instead? That kid's strange, I'll tell ya', but if he can run his mouth like that, I'm sure it won't be a problem teachin' him how to work it somewhere else, you don't think?"

Negan could've went on for far longer but the mention of Carl was enough to do it for Rick. In sheer spontaneousness, Rick had gone to push himself up from the counter and do what he believed at the time was throw a blow of his own at Negan for the words he dared to speak about his son— but if there was anything Negan was ahead of him on, it was inclined reflexes. Almost immediately, Negan dodged the hit and shoved Rick's body back down into the counter, much harsher than before and this time, Rick couldn't even pretend like he didn't want to yelp out of excruciating pain. He did, and Negan spurned with expected disappointment.

"Almost knocked me off of my damn feet, Grimes. Way to fucking go." Negan laughed, earning a grimace from Rick from below. The older man leaned forward, his upper body pressed to Rick's back and he smirked after dipping in to plant a gauche kiss to the back of his neck.  
"You try that shit on me again and I'll knock your head clean off of your shoulders, d'ya hear me?" He muttered, this time his tone more distinct, hard and sharply clear.  
Rick could tell Negan meant that. He also knew that trying to swing at him was a bad, thoughtless move on his part but it was mercilessly instinctual. He wasn't in a remotely patterned train of thought right now and the last thing he could handle was thinking about Carl having to be in his place. Oh god, how much of a burden that would be on Rick for the rest of his miserable life if he had to live knowing he let something like that happen to his boy. The first time he'd witnessed that almost happening to Carl, he'd went practically insane and it was safe to say that he'd do a little more than rip Negan's throat out for laying a finger on his son.  
Far more than that.

In this moment, Rick was so exhausted that he could barely even hold his own weight up, trembling legs shaking from not only the chilly atmosphere of the vehicle but additionally from this as a whole. His vulnerability getting to him.  
He wanted to drop to the floor and scream and hell, he'd actually thought for a split second about trying to punch Negan again just so he'd have a chance at getting killed faster instead of having to put up with this but every part of his body physically refrained from letting him do so. Besides, even if he did, Negan knew Rick would rather die than continue to put up with the humiliation so why would he be generous enough to give him what he wanted?

Further humiliation was all Rick didn't want- at first, per say- but come to believe it, was all he continued to get. Negan would make praising remarks about the man's body but otherwise, that was about as far as his kindness went.

"You're not a damn _virgin_ , are you?" Negan would taunt him from behind after giving Rick's ass a rough seize, snickering at what seemed to be his own words, or even the fact itself being true before breaking out into a fit of hearty laughter. The kind that only made Rick feel more ashamed, more exposed and embarrassed than he already did– and for what?  
"Rick Grimes. A virgin." The larger man repeated as if announcing it the first time just didn't make the cut for him. He caught his breath for a moment and spent a few seconds just eyeing Rick in a way that the younger man didn't quite come to understand but simultaneously, didn't bother to analyze. He only wished that he was still wearing his clothes because frankly, there was nothing more uncomfortable than the feeling of Negan's eyes scorching, physically burning into his naked flesh.

The man clicked his tongue a few periodical times, gloved hand still gripped onto Rick's hip while the other was carded through his sweat doused hair, pushing it back off of Rick's forehead and instead using the curly strands to tug Rick's upper body forward, closer against his own.  
Rick could feel the heat from Negan's mouth inches away from his ear and though he was inclined to pull away out of sheer discomfort, he only shuddered at the warmth, closing his eyes and swallowing harshly at the returning sound of his voice, now much quieter.

"You mean to tell me that you and angel wings ain't ever boned?" Negan would growl and as soon as he realized how truly offset that made Rick, he only continued, this time dipping in to where his endearing grin met Rick's lobe; again, he shivered. "Because that's who knocks your boots, ain't it Rick? I'd hate to jump to an assumption here so, pardon me but I would'a figured from the way you'd get at eyein' him, he's got it in a few times." He shrugged.  
Negan removed his harsh grab on Rick's hair causing the vulnerable man to limply fall back into the position he'd been nudged into before, plummeting to return holding his weight up by his elbows pressed to the counter. He sucked in a sharp breath at this but was quick to release it, shaking his head at Negan's words despite the fact that they were still being thrown at him.

"Or.. Or would it be the other way around? Am I mistaken?" He asked, not expecting much of a retort from Rick but he made up for the silence himself in another fit of scoffs. "My God, Rick Grimes has _his_ very own bottom bitch!" Negan practically snorted.  
"That's a big guy you're handlin' there. Is he tough to work? Because he sure does throw a mean punch.. That sucker did my jaw hell, I'll tell ya' that. But hey, I'll give ya' credit for it. I'm not here to shame ya' or anything, right?" He falsely praised and well, at this point Rick wasn't even sure as to what direction Negan was speaking into but he didn't care. He wanted this to be over with, especially the instant second Daryl was brought up.

Rick knew what was coming next as soon as he could hear the sound of Negan's belt being undone from behind. A major part of him expected this to happen from the moment he was drug across the ground and pushed inside the camper but he didn't quite wrap his head around what was about to happen until this exact moment. He had to swallow another lump that formed in his throat, bringing himself to look away from Negan and instead refixing his gaze on the wall in front of him. Negan's voice was soon audible to him again and for a while, these words were really all he could seem to make out of what had happened- at the time, what _was_ happening, continuously rapidly at that, almost as rapid as the beating in Rick's chest.

Negan slipped down his jeans effortlessly and moved both hands up to rest onto either of Rick's sides, chuckling a little. "I couldn't give a rat's ass if you received or delivered Rick but, you should know one thing already, and it's that I'm _no one's_ bitch. You don't see me bent over this counter about to get my ass torn by another man, do you?"

Negan paused for a second to let him answer but Rick remained silent. To which, Negan cleared his throat and straightened behind him.  
"Answer me when I ask you a question." He ordered.

By now, Rick's so damn hard and he hates to acknowledge how aroused he is at this point, so much that he can't even concentrate on what he's ready to give away and what he isn't. Not like he has a choice at the same time. From what he had witnessed out there only hours, maybe minutes ago, there was no telling what sort of sick, demented tricks Negan would pull if he didn't cooperate and let him have what he wanted.  
"No." he croaked out weakly. "No, sir."

Negan smiles in return.  
"That's my boy." He says almost out of pride, with an egotistical tone of voice to accompany the absentminded pat he gave Rick's already reddened hip. "Such a good boy."  
The feeling of leather slapping against that portion of his skin again is strange and it oddly excites him despite him having to hold back a wince. Rick wants to hate himself even more for wishing he'd been hit harder but he's already drowning in self-loathe so, it does him absolutely no good. "–So don't think for a single second that you're turning tables anytime soon. If I want you to be my bitch, that's what you'll be."

;

What's irritable but interesting to Rick after that day is that he finds out that the more he lets Negan fuck him, the more frequent that desire to receive harder hits returns. Not necessarily in that specific case but to receive what he can get from Negan as a whole. Almost as if he's become so customary to the pain that he learns to love it, learns to become an absolute sucker for it. He can't say that he likes when Negan teases and calls him a bitch for it because he knows damn well Rick wants more but he can't oppose to feeling like an absolute harlot for his wants and loving that Negan only emphasizes that for him in such a sick way.

When Negan fucks Rick, he doesn't hold back at all and Rick feels like that's why he enjoys it so much. Before this, he never allowed himself to take orders from other people. He always assigned himself as the boss with no further desire to change anything about that but because he felt so indifferent about his situation with Negan, he felt like it had to do with this being his ultimate low point.  
He'd watched his two brothers get their skulls crushed in, witnessed his other brother and godly beloved best friend being swiped up and taken to God knows where before his eyes and was almost forced into hammering his own son's arm off. With every day that passed, his world was only continuing to come tumbling down and as discouraging as it was to have to endure all of this and more, without any idea whether or not he still had hopes of it getting better, the pain he took from Negan was pain that he didn't acknowledge from everything else; the overwhelming guilt and loss, the weakness, the feeling of loneliness and constant uneasiness burning a dark hole in his chest.  
He feels like he deserves this because surely, fucking _surely_ if he had bruises and bites and whip marks, scratches and burns to show for this torment, he might just be forgiven. _Might be._ 'And by who?', he would question even himself to which he barely knew the answer to. If there was a higher power, ultimately it, but even the rest of the group, too. He knew those guys out there well enough to know that they would never put Rick in a position to make him feel like Glenn or Abraham's or anybody else's death was his fault or happened because he was too weak to do something about it but that wasn't going to change how he thought they should feel towards him. If anything, he _wanted_ them to feel loathe towards him because it _was_ his fault. The position they were all now in was _all his fault._

But when Negan fucked him, there was a reminder yet release from that and _that's_ why it was so nice. That's why only after a few days of having to put up with it, he had grown to feel like it was what he needed to get through the day and feel like he had some meaning, some little purpose to himself left even if it meant absolutely nothing to Negan on the other hand.

It must have though, because Negan had spent more time filling Rick up than he had with another woman in years. He maintained to taking caring of them of course but didn't lay a single finger on any of his wives ever since he'd brought Rick back with him. His treatment was odd but then again, there was little time for outside living treatment when Rick was always insisting that he's doing something to get Negan off, habitually the other way around.  
It was almost as if he worshipped Negan at this point which was terrible because, he hated the man.  
He fucking hated everything he stood for, how he believed what he did to Rick and his group was okay, the way he took control of situations he had no part in being in. He hated his cocky fucking attitude and that god-damn oversized smile he'd always sport, big enough at the wrong time to make you believe the man was actually crazy- which, he obviously was. Negan was batshit insane and Rick knew that from the beginning. But despite hating himself for being at Negan's feet constantly, he derived from the man's torture. Was now _always_ pleading for more.

"More, more, God I need more," Rick finds himself repeatedly panting out when Negan's got him shoved over something else, it seeming to vary depending on where the two men would find themselves in the quick unplanned moments of need. Of course, where Negan was, Rick would have to follow like the dog he had become. Because he most certainly couldn't be left alone. Why would Negan want him to try and escape after how much he's obtaining from Rick's little stay?  
Rick's begs for more are singlehandedly the only time Negan will ever obey to something _he's_ asking for. He'll just smirk down at Rick in amusement and work his hips harder into the man, gyrating deeper, rougher thrusts because he knows exactly how Rick likes it now. What makes this even better is that Negan knows he's the one who's made Rick like it so much.

"Such a fucking slut for me, a slut for all of this pain," Negan will grunt amidst breathless laughter, nails digging into Rick's flesh deeper than before and dragging them along so harshly down his chest that he's easily broken passed his first layer of skin. He'll grind his teeth in satisfaction at the reactions he'll earn from Rick when he does this, noting that they only seem to get better when he curls his fingers enough, just enough to start to draw blood from the skin at the end of his torso.  
Hot, wet tears will stream down Rick's cheeks as his back arches up against Negan's body and it hurts but he doesn't want Negan to stop. It's not even enough for him. It's not even relatively as harsh as Rick wants to feel it even though Negan is literally clawing away at his body, leaving him painted in red, long fingernail scratches.  
"Just look at you, writhing beneath me and letting yourself get completely destroyed, you filthy little bitch." The dominant will speak, his own words coming out with a less distinct focus, slurring into one another as soon as he can feel that warm twisting, tightening sensation in his stomach. The one Rick feels too and demands to let go of, to no longer hold possession of but knows he physically can't until Negan puts forth and gives him more.

The feeling of Negan's cock alone already does a great deal of providing him with constant twinge. No matter how many times Negan would fuck him like this, he accepted the fact that it was always going to hurt. Which, to him right now wasn't a bad thing, he _wanted_ this to hurt, he felt like it needed to hurt for him to enjoy it because he deserved to be punished for becoming such a weak, useless being and letting his friends die under his wing but it was definitely the fact of the matter. Negan was large, very thick and always hard around Rick so to be expected, it stung like hell. It _burned_ , raged like a fire with every thrust he would make into Rick. The pressure and stretch was far more than he knew he should be taking without any proper preparation beforehand but taking precaution of that was the last thing on Rick's mind anytime Negan fucked him.  
He wants to feel the excruciating pain that came from Negan's hard force, to feel himself being torn open over and over again, to be left as sore and bruised and broken as he feels because that seems to be the only mercy he can get right now.

Rick feels more raw than ever, feeling all sorts of flavours of pain while his own cock is throbbing from incitement, a growing pool of precum forming on his abdomen that Negan only helps contribute to by swiftly reaching a hand down to wrap around it. It seems that Rick can only replicate the man's wolffish grin when Negan's grip tightens around his length, squeezing tighter than he normally would've. A lot tighter. It's more painful than it is bringing Rick pleasure and he squirms, letting out vicious winces and sounds but because of that pain, he's pushed closer to an orgasm and Negan can see this from the way his smaller frame is trembling under his power.

"Glad I kept you as a toy, you were fuckin' made for this, Rick." He tells him, awarding himself with another broken, loud moan from Rick.  
While his grip is still tight around the man's cock, he seems to practice a pace with his hand that's almost as quick as that of his hips still creating hard, senseless slams and soon enough, he has them synchronized, not losing his wind for a single second. He's not sure what it is exactly that brings him to finish off– the feeling of Rick clenching up around him whenever his tip would graze, ground into Rick's prostate or maybe the sight of Rick itself, him lying underneath Negan's body shaking, gripping onto the sheets so hard that his knuckles are pure white and his cheeks are flushed, pigmented the prettiest shade of pink. Whatever it is, Negan finishes off and releases into Rick before he can even spur out a mention of doing so but decides he's gonna be generous enough to let Rick ride out an orgasm of his own; to which, he does only seconds later after a few more pumps and deep rams.

Negan's truthfully glad he decides to do so because he can tell in an instant that Rick's orgasm is so intense, it hits him like a bat to the head.  
Rick can only manage a soft gasp during it but nothing else because it's _that_ powerful. For a moment, it's almost like everything goes black. In his head he's not sure whether or not it's because he's actually knocked out or just because his eyes are squeezed so tightly shut but he's sure he knows the answer since he can still register the feeling of Negan's cock buried deep inside of him, alongside the warm, sticky wetness that is his come coating his chest- but other than that, it's purely a sense of nothingness. It's like he's suddenly trapped in a state of all-around numbness and just when he thinks he misses feeling the pain he is so deadset on giving himself, on receiving from Negan, he realizes that feeling nothing is far more comforting.  
Feeling nothing is almost like forgetting where he's at, who he's with, what he's done and what he has got himself addicted to.

— ;


End file.
